


Lily White, Hold Me Tight

by EvensDramaticShenanigans



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Arguing, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, blink and you'll miss it feelings, it's like barely mentioned though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/EvensDramaticShenanigans
Summary: A draft notice.It’s a fucking draft notice.Which meant that Bucky never enlisted. Bucky never had a choice. Suddenly it all makes sense— the arguments, his frustration with Steve’s bullheadedness about enlisting. Steve wanted what his friend had so badly, and Bucky never wanted it at all.





	Lily White, Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hiii!
> 
> So, today’s a pretty exciting day. It’s exactly one year since I finished writing and posted my very first fic! I can’t believe that it’s been a whole year already, time sure flies! Since my first fic I’ve written and posted 38 more fics and I have so many more in the works!
> 
> I’m gonna get a little sappy here for a hot sec so bear with me! I know she’s not going to see this lol but I just wanna thank Julie Andem for creating the show that inspired me enough to actually finish a fic for once and to keep writing and sharing my stories with the world. Without Skam I wouldn’t have posted that first fic and I wouldn’t have met the amazing group of people that have helped support and encourage me and my writing the most. I may not be writing very much Skam anymore, but the fandom and the fics and writers will always hold a very dear place in my heart. 
> 
> To the Skam International group— thank you for everything you all have done to help cultivate my writing skills, abilities, motivations, etc.
> 
> To the mamma mia fan club— thank you all for being the very best friends a girl could have. I’ve valued every single supportive, encouraging thing you all have said, I’ve loved all of the emo hours we’ve endured together, I’m so happy that we’re always there for each other and each other’s writing. I love you guys <3
> 
> To everyone who’s ever read a single one of my fics— thank you so so much! You have no idea how much it means to me to see so many people reading the worlds I’ve cultivated, the characters I’ve embraced, and the stories I’ve spun. Comments and kudos make the world go round for a writer and I’ve appreciated every single on you all have graciously given me! I wouldn’t be anywhere without everyone who reads and leaves that feedback, so thank you very much for that! I hope I can keep providing you with quality work!
> 
> Like I said before, it’s crazy to think that a whole year has passed, but I’m so excited to see what this next year of writing will bring! So here’s to the new fandoms and characters and stories that are to come!
> 
> This fic is written for [Marie](https://naescar.tumblr.com/) <3 Thank you thank you thank you for the tumblr prompt! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write something for it, I’m sure you’ve probably forgotten you even submitted it lol. Nonetheless, I finally figured out just what I wanted to do with the line and this is what I came up with! I hope you like angst :p 
> 
> And a big thank you to my wonderful beta, [Taja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tajargirl/pseuds/tajargirl). Your feedback was incredibly helpful and I appreciate it so very much! Also thank you to the amazing [gracelesso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracelesso) for all of your help as well!
> 
> Just to put this out there, I’m very open to writing a second part to this, I feel like it could be continued! I’m just not 100% sure what direction to take it in, so if anyone has any ideas or wants to see it go a certain way I’m all ears! :)
> 
> The title comes from [Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJaJRM1SDas) by Amber Run. I love love love this song and it actually just so happens to be on my Bucky Barnes playlist on spotify lol. 
> 
> And now, without further ado, enjoy some good ol’ angst!

“Where the hell’d you disappear off to tonight?” 

Bucky’s voice startles Steve enough that his thin body jolts violently, his arm jerking so harshly that his pencil veers off to the right and leaves a dark, ugly line across the otherwise neat page. There’s no way he’ll be able to get rid of that kind of blemish. He could try to work it into the drawing, to form shapes around it so it blends in seamlessly, but he’s probably much better off abandoning the piece and starting over rather than attempting to salvage it. Despite the work he poured into it going to waste, Steve has to laugh. If that isn’t just one big metaphor for his life right now.

“I asked you a question, punk,” Bucky says from his position near the door. He’s leaned up against the wall, one hand pressed against it to hold himself up as he balances on one foot and tries to undo the laces of his boot. 

“Didn’t much feel like dancin’,” Steve responds simply, offering Bucky a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t feel much like talking right now, either. Not when they’ve had this conversation a thousand times already and he knows exactly how it’s going to go. 

“Aw, c’mon, Steve, nothin’ wrong with a little dancin’,” Bucky argues. His boot finally shakes loose and he lays it to the side before moving to work on the other one.

Steve flips to a new page in his sketchbook and begins blocking out the shapes. “There is when your partner’s too afraid of squashing you like a bug,” he mumbles. The circle he’s trying to draw doesn’t look right, but he doesn’t bother erasing it. He was pressing the lead of his pencil too hard against the paper. He’ll have to start fresh again. 

Bucky’s other boot comes off easier than the first, and he lines them up neatly underneath the coat hook. Then he sheds his jacket and starts to pad over to the ratty old couch Steve’s perched on. 

“Bullshit,” Bucky immediately denies. He shakes his head and lets out a short laugh. “You and I both know a little lady couldn’t squish ya. You’re the toughest bug I know.”

Steve doesn’t say anything at first, just focuses back on the page in front of him. This time he tries to hold his pencil lighter, not wanting to waste yet another page or lose more precious lead. He’s used to Bucky trying to build up his confidence with his little encouragements and compliments. He’s so used to them that they don’t really have the same effect they used to. Now, they just make Steve sad. 

“Still a bug though,” Steve points out. 

Bucky huffs. “Not a bug,” he counters, coming to a stop next to the armrest of the sofa. “And fine,” he concedes, holding both of his hands up in surrender. “If it makes you so upset, we won’t go dancin’ next time. I promise.”

Steve can’t hold back a snort. “Next time,” he repeats bitterly, not bothering to cover up the contempt in his tone. “Where will we go then?” he asks. He knows that he’s treading on dangerous ground here, knows that he shouldn’t be taking this argument down that course— he really knows he shouldn’t. That conversation never ends well, and it never will, not as long as they keep having it. But Steve’s feeling too belligerent, too worked up not to take it there tonight. “Your goddamn funeral?” he spits.

Steve wants a fight, needs one so badly. His fists are itching at his sides, have been all night, which is partially why he took to drawing that evening. To give them something to do other than become bloodied pulps. Not that he’d fight Bucky— not physically, at least. 

“Don’t you start that with me, Stevie,” Bucky reprimands, his tone even and cold. “Not again.” 

It makes Steve’s blood boil, makes him crave the fight even more. The tip of his pencil suddenly snaps against the paper, and Steve presses his lips together tightly, his teeth clenching behind them. He slams the cover of his sketchbook and his fingers grip it so tightly they begin to turn white at the knuckles. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Steve sneers, shoving the sketchbook off of his lap. “Why shouldn’t I, huh? Why can’t we talk about this?” he prods. Steve’s only 5’4”, and he knows he doesn’t look very intimidating, but that doesn’t stop him from rising to his feet anyways. 

Bucky sighs exasperatedly and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “We’ve already talked about it, s’why,” he answers evenly.

“How have we already talked about it when every time it comes up you shut it down?” Steve retorts, tilting his head expectantly. 

“I’m not really sure what it is you wanna talk about, Steve,” Bucky admits, flinging his arms up. “I got my uniform, I got my orders. It’s not like I can send ‘em back with a card signed  _ no thanks _ . It doesn’t work like that.” 

“I know that, Buck,” Steve snaps, his brows knitting together angrily. 

“Then what more is there to talk about?” Bucky demands, his forehead puckering in confusion. “I know how much you wanna join this fight, Steve— God knows you won’t let me forget that— but it’s just one you’re gonna have to sit out, no matter how much you don’t wanna. I don’t understand why you’re itchin’ to go so badly anyways,” Bucky says. “It’s  _ war _ , Steve. Do you even understand how dangerous it is out there?”

Steve nearly slams his foot down like a petulant child. Instead, he throws his arms out. “I’m not a child, Bucky! I’m no dame either! I don’t need protecting. I don’t need coddling. I’m a man, just like you, just like all the rest of the soldiers out there. I may not be as tall as you, or as strong as you, but I’m still every bit a man as you. I deserve to protect my country and the people in it all the same.”

“And you will!” Bucky shouts back. Steve can tell that he’s coming down to the end of his rope, his patience running just as thin as Steve’s. “You don’t have to be on the front lines to do that!” 

“You said so yourself, just now. I’m one tough bug— your words, not mine! You can’t tell me that in one breath and then turn around and say in another that I’m not good enough to fight in the war, that it’s too dangerous for me. Which is it, Bucky? ‘Cause you can’t have it both ways!” 

“Steve, there are men dyin’ every damn day—”

“And it’s not fair that they get to lay down their lives for their country and I don’t,” Steve interrupts, the frustration bubbling over. 

“It is fair, Steve! It is!” Bucky snaps, his voice rising in decibel. He’s jumped up from the couch and he has his fingers shoved into his hair, tugging frustratedly at the strands. “God dammit, you don’t deserve to die! I don’t care if you were the fittest man alive, healthy as a horse— the perfect soldier. You don’t fuckin’ deserve that!” 

“It’s not about what I do or don’t deserve, Bucky! And dyin’ out there would be a helluva lot better than the way I’m gonna go. I’d rather it be a bullet for my country than my shitty heart or flaky lungs that do the job,” Steve fumes. “At least out there my life would have purpose, and I’d be dyin’ for a damn good reason instead of ‘cause my body doesn’t work.” 

Bucky’s face contorts briefly and then he’s slamming his palm against their measly wooden table, which sways unsteadily under the force. “God dammit, quit sayin’ that!” he thunders. His eyes are wild, nostrils flaring with each heavy breath he takes, chest heaving beneath his shirt. One fist is curled at his side, and his other is clenched on top of the table. 

For a few seconds, Steve sees George Barnes staring back at him— towering over him with pure, unadulterated rage swirling in his eyes like storm clouds. Steve knows Bucky didn’t have a drop to drink tonight, but he can smell the rancid stench of alcohol. He’s never seen Bucky ever get this angry before, despite how many times they’ve had this argument, and there hasn’t been a single time in his life that Steve’s been afraid of Bucky. Until now. Now, Steve sees the exact person Bucky swore he’d never ever be, and it scares the hell out of him. 

“Don’t you raise your voice at me like that,” Steve commands, his tone soft but strict, all traces of his previous defensiveness and fiesty belligerence gone. His voice wavers a little, something he can’t help, but he mentally curses. He doesn’t need to come across as weak or afraid right now. 

The waver, however, is what brings Bucky back, is what grounds him again. His heaving chest begins to slow, and he blinks the rage out of his eyes. Slowly, he raises his hands up near his head and shakily runs them through his hair and then down his face. They stay there, covering his features, and a choked off noise falls from his lips before he collapses back onto the couch. 

Warily, Steve lowers himself into the space next to Bucky. He lifts a hand up and lets it hover over Bucky’s arm for a second before he carefully touches him, just a light press of his finger. Bucky flinches, and Steve’s frown deepens. He lays one finger down at a time and then gently fits his palm over the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. Then he waits. 

After a few seconds, the tension in Bucky’s body begins to seep out, and he all but sags against the cushion, the fight having left his body.

“Bucky,” Steve says softly, rubbing his thumb soothingly back and forth on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“M’sorry,” Bucky croaks, his voice quiet and broken. He takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it back out. “M’sorry,” he repeats, shaking his head at himself. Steve knows exactly what he’s apologizing for.

Steve shifts closer to Bucky, their legs pressing together from knee to thigh, and he takes his hand off of Bucky’s shoulder in favor of reaching over to touch Bucky’s knee. “It’s okay, Buck,” he assures, squeezing lightly.

“I’m supposed to protect you, Stevie,” Bucky says, finally lifting his face from his hands. He fixes his eyes to Steve’s, and they’re sparkling with unshed tears. “I know you don’t like that, but I promised your ma I’d take care of you. I can’t very well do that if you’re off gettin’ yourself shot at by Nazis. This war… it’s a one way ticket, Steve, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you go off and kill yourself.” 

Steve frowns and takes one of Bucky’s hands between the two of his. “What about me?” he asks helplessly. “How am I supposed to live with myself if you get killed? Huh? You didn’t think of that, did you?” 

“Of course I thought of that, Stevie,” Bucky breaths. “I don’t wanna leave you any more than you wanna join me. But there ain’t much I can do about it. It’s not like I have a choice.”

Steve’s brows knit together in a frown. “You did, though,” he says. “You enlisted, Buck, you had all the choice in the world. S’why I don’t understand why you’d do that to me.”

Bucky’s eyes slam shut and he shakes his head, sorrow coloring his features. “But I didn’t,” he whispers. 

“Buck, what do you mean?” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, just rises to his feet and waits for Steve to do the same. Steve’s still got Bucky’s hand between his own, and Bucky twists his palm around and up so he can thread his fingers with Steve’s. 

There are so many thoughts racing through Steve’s head, so many questions, but he doesn’t verbalize any of them. 

Once Steve’s standing too, Bucky leads him towards their shared bedroom, his steps measured yet dragging, like he’s prolonging the inevitable. That just makes Steve more nervous about what exactly the inevitable is. 

They cross the threshold into their room, and Steve’s brows pull together in a confused scowl as Bucky tugs him towards his half of the room. They come to a stop at the edge of Bucky’s bed, and Bucky squeezes Steve’s palm once before letting go of his hand so he can reach for the mattress. He uses both hands to lift it, and once it’s raised high enough, Steve’s eyes are drawn to the thin envelope lying there. 

Bucky picks it up and replaces the mattress before turning to face Steve. His eyes are cast down at the envelope, and his clutch around it is tight enough to crumple the edges. Steve can see that his teeth are clenched tightly, his jaw twitching every so often. His lips are pulled down at the corners in a frown that seems to be more permanently etched onto Bucky’s face each time Steve looks at him. It’s even more prominent when Bucky thinks Steve isn’t looking — like it is now. His forehead is creased, and Steve can tell that there’s some sort of mental warfare going on in his head. He’s about to reach for Bucky when Bucky’s eyes suddenly flicker up to meet his.

He’s silent as he thrusts the envelope out for Steve to take.

Warily, Steve accepts it. He shoots Bucky a worried look before focusing on the envelope. Upon closer examination, Steve realizes that it’s thoroughly wrinkled, as though it’s been crumpled up more than once.

He gingerly lowers himself to sit on the edge of Bucky’s bed and Bucky quickly follows suit. Steve flips the envelope in his hands so the jagged, torn seal stares back up at him. He peels it open and extracts the letter with nimble fingers, but before he unfolds it to read it, he casts Bucky one more quick glance only to find him chewing on his lower lip, staring intently at where he’s wringing his hands together in his lap— a nervous habit. 

Steve forces his eyes back to the letter in his hands and he sets the envelope to the side. The lily white stationary is thicker than normal, indicating that it must be some sort of official document, and Steve feels his stomach twist. He takes in a quiet, deep breath, preparing himself for what’s to come, and unfolds the letter.

The first thing he sees at the top of the page is the Selective Service System insignia and the heart that was previously trapped in Steve’s throat sinks to the pit of his stomach. Immediately after the emblem, in bold print reads: 

ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION. 

A draft notice. 

It’s a fucking draft notice. 

Which meant that Bucky never enlisted. Bucky never had a choice. Suddenly it all makes sense— the arguments, his frustration with Steve’s bullheadedness about enlisting. Steve wanted what his friend had so badly, and Bucky never wanted it at all. 

He can’t believe that he didn’t see it before. But then again, Bucky never gave him reason to believe that this wasn’t exactly what he wanted. That’s Bucky, though. Always the pleaser, that one. He’d take the brunt of the world on his own two shoulders without a single complaint if it meant someone else was better off. It was one of his best qualities but also, perhaps, his biggest weakness.

“You… you never said…” Steve starts, not bothering to finish reading the letter. He knows everything he needs to know now. 

“I was scared, Steve,” Bucky admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Still am.”

Steve’s head jolts up at that, and when he looks over at Bucky, he’s surprised to see him hunched in on himself, his arms curled around his stomach. He’s never seen Bucky look so small before— he’s always big brash words and suave cocky confidence that wins over everyone he talks to. It’s so rare to see him peeled back and vulnerable like this, but now that he is, and over something so out of his control, Steve’s heart aches.

Steve sets the letter to the side and shifts so he’s facing Bucky. “What are you scared about?” he asks. He knows it’s kind of a dumb question, but he’s desperate to understand what Bucky’s feeling.

Bucky takes a slow, shaky breath. “Telling you,” he says. “Shipping out. All of it.” He presses his lips together for a moment, a contemplative look flashing briefly across his face. Then he’s shaking his head and a bitter smile curls his lips. “I shouldn’t be afraid,” he spits. “I’m a goddamn soldier now. I  _ can’t _ be afraid.”

Steve jerks his head in frantic disagreement. “You know that’s not true, Bucky,” he replies insistently. “You’re allowed to be scared. Hell, if you weren’t I’d be concerned.” 

“But m’supposed to be brave, Steve,” Bucky says. “M’supposed to wanna serve my country, supposed to wanna wear my uniform because of what it stands for, supposed to wanna knowingly submit myself to death.” His voice hitches. “But I don’t. I don’t want to. That probably makes me the worst soldier, the worst American for sayin’ it, but if it ain’t the truth. I’ve gone my whole life havin’ to be brave for everyone else. My ma, my sisters, your ma,  _ you _ …” Bucky trails off. His eyes are glistening, misty with tears that Steve can see he’s fighting to hold back. 

And suddenly that fire in Steve’s heart is burning bright again, licking at his bones and filling him to the brim with an even stronger urge to fight. His fists are itching, but this time he wants to rage against the machine, not Bucky.

Steve grunts, frustrated and he purses his lips in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to be the only one that has to be brave though. It ain’t fair to you, and it ain’t fair that I can’t do anythin’ to change that. You wanted to know why I’m so keen to fight… well, that’s why, Buck. I wanna be the brave one for once,” he says, full of conviction. “You deserve to have someone lookin’ out for you too. It just ain’t fair that I can’t be there to return the favor.” 

Bucky sighs wearily. “I know, Steve, I know. But right now the only thing lettin’ me sleep soundly at night is knowin’ you’ll be here, away from the fight, away from the danger. I really shoulda known you were gonna wanna run head first into it all. Little punk like you,” Bucky trails off, shaking his head fondly at Steve. 

Steve cracks a hint of a smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, you won’t hafta worry about losing sleep over this. They won’t take me. No matter how many times I try.”

“I really wish you would stop tryin’,” Bucky replies. 

Steve smiles, apologetic yet shameless. “You know I can’t do that, Buck.” 

“There’s a reason why they keep sayin’ no, Steve. At least seven reasons, actually,” he points out. 

It’s a low blow, referencing Steve’s laundry list of medical anomalies like that, and he feels the sting of Bucky’s words in his stuttering heart. He can’t say he blames Bucky for saying them, though. Steve understands Bucky’s side of things now, and truth be told, if he were in Bucky’s shoes, he’d probably share the same opinion. That alone should be enough to stop him from pressing the issue, but Steve’s never really been good at biting his tongue when he should.

“I know you can’t help it,” Bucky continues, “but if you ask me, I think it’s for the best. I spend so much time terrified of what it means when it starts to get cold outside, so much time scared half to death whenever you’re hit with some bug,” he admits, “but for once, m‘not scared of what it means for you and the war.”

Steve nods slowly, and he tilts his head solemnly to the side as he peers over at Bucky. “I guess I can understand where you’re coming from,” he says.

“But I don’t think you do, Steve,” Bucky says. He doesn’t sound frustrated. He just sounds sad. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’ve failed everyone around you. I’m failin’ the Army by not wantin’ to be part of it, and I’m gonna be failin’ you too ‘cause I can’t be here for you. I just can’t win.”

A rush of protectiveness surges through Steve. “ _ No _ ,” he says fiercely, taking Bucky by the shoulders so he can look dead into his eyes. “You are  _ not _ failin’ me, Bucky. You never have and you never could, so don’t you believe that for a single damn second. And you’re not failin’ the Army either. Bein’ scared is normal. War is scary. It’s scary and sad and lonely, and you have every right to be wary of it. And you know what? You’re gonna be the best damn soldier there is, Buck. Wanna know how I know that?” Steve asks. He doesn’t wait for Bucky’s answer, just barrels on. “‘Cause I know you’re gonna give it your all. I know that you’re gonna do everythin’ you can to come home to me.”

Steve can see how hard Bucky’s trying to keep his face neutral, how hard he’s trying not to let his true emotions show. He’s about to break, though, and Steve’s going to be there to hold the pieces together. 

Bucky’s lip quivers and he drops his eyes, unable to look into Steve’s anymore. His jaw is clenching and unclenching, and as he squeezes his eyes shut Steve can see the way his lashes flutter rapidly, like he’s trying to will away the tears.

“But what if I don’t?” he whispers, so quietly that Steve almost misses it. “I don’t wanna die, Steve.” 

Bucky’s voice cracks on Steve’s name, and that’s the last straw before Steve reaches out for Bucky. He curls an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulls him into his body, wrapping him up in a much-needed hug. 

Bucky melts into Steve’s embrace, and his hands come up to clutch at Steve’s shoulders. His grip is strong, like he’s afraid Steve will slip away if he’s not holding on tight enough. Almost immediately he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder and buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck as best he can.

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve breathes. “You won’t. You’re not gonna die on me, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let it happen,” he promises. “I’ll hunt down Hitler himself and punch him out if it means you come home to me.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t have to. Steve can feel the gratitude radiating off of him, and right now, the way Bucky’s clinging to him says all that needs to be said.

Their embrace lasts a few moments longer as Bucky collects himself, and when he’s finally ready to talk again, he lifts his head from Steve’s shoulder so he can make eye contact. His eyes are red rimmed, and Steve catches the glint of tear tracks down his cheeks.  

“M’sorry,” Bucky apologizes and sniffs harshly. “I… didn’t mean to get all…” he trails off and waves a hand absently through the air.

Steve shakes his head immediately. “You don’t need to apologize for that, Buck. You never need to apologize for that,” he reassures, and Bucky relaxes a bit in his arms. He hasn’t yet let go of Steve, and it doesn’t really seem like he plans to any time soon. Steve doesn’t mind one bit. 

Bucky bites his lip and a hesitant expression crosses his face. “Would you… would you mind stayin’ here tonight? With me?” he asks, uncertainty coloring his tone. “I just think I’ll sleep a lot better if m’not alone,” he adds.

“‘Course I don’t mind,” Steve answers, giving Bucky a comforting smile. Bucky manages to return it, albeit a bit wobbly, but Steve counts that as a win nonetheless. 

It’s a tribute to just how tired Bucky is that he doesn’t bother changing into his bed clothes, just crawls up to the head of the bed and peels back his covers, holding one side up for Steve to shuffle under as well. 

Bucky starts to turn so that he can press up against Steve’s back, the way he always does when he slides into Steve’s bed to stop his body from quaking through the cold nights, but Steve stops him. “C’mere,” he says softly, holding open his arms for Bucky to curl into. 

There’s something akin to relief that spreads across Bucky’s features, and the corners of his lips twitch up slightly as he wriggles into Steve’s space. 

Steve curls himself around Bucky’s bigger frame and drapes an arm over the jut of Bucky’s hip. He knows that their position is an intimate one, knows that he’s being extra affectionate with Bucky right now, but Bucky hasn’t pushed him away, hasn’t told him to stop or questioned his motives. In fact, he welcomed them, even nuzzled back into the touch. Steve tries not to think about what it means to him. Instead, he focuses on making sure that Bucky feels completely safe in his arms. That he feels protected and loved. 

Steve doesn’t dare say it out loud, but the last thought that flashes through his mind as he drifts off is that he’s going to do anything,  _ anything _ he can to protect Bucky now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Come say [hi](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/brooklynbabybucky)! :)
> 
> And come check out this cool [discord](https://discord.gg/8gybKrj) for marvel content creators!! You can find more information [here](https://marvelcreatorsnetwork.tumblr.com/) or feel free to ask about it in the comments!! :)


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